Luck and Trouble
by Satirise
Summary: She's supposed to be celebrating, but Elizabeth Bennet is left wondering who's the disgusting man eating her antipasto, why Charlotte is sparing him a second glance, and why a handsome stranger feels compelled to save her when Jane and Charlotte ditch her. Modern short story; rated M.
1. Part 1

**Luck and Trouble**

The taxi pulled to the kerb and came to a stop outside an inconspicuous office building. Elizabeth Bennet paid her fare and tried to exit the car with as much grace and dignity as her legs would allow. Her feet hit the pavement and she let nervous momentum carry her through the grand foyer to check in with security. Slipping a visitor's lanyard over her head, Elizabeth walked to the elevators and took a moment to check her reflection in the mirror. Thank goodness her hair had cooperated and was sitting nicely around her shoulders. Her heels were uncomfortably tight, but when the doors opened to reveal human resources she was determined to be the picture of absolute poise.

'Elizabeth Bennet,' she announced to the receptionist. 'I'm here for a job interview.'

An hour later, a very relieved Elizabeth walked out of the foyer of the inconspicuous office building and brought her phone to her ear. 'Jane? I got the job! Can you _believe _it?' She let out a loud laugh of delight.

* * *

'Another round, please,' Charlotte said to the waiter as he cleared away their empty glasses.

'And if you could please bring us a menu, that'd be lovely,' smiled Jane, ever the maternal sort ensuring that proceedings didn't unduly get out of hand early in the piece.

Elizabeth noticed that the waiter's smile shifted from perfunctory and professional to positively beaming. She couldn't begrudge her sister's knack of attracting male attention though – she was starving. She hadn't been able to eat anything all day, the nerves of the impending job interview making it impossible to keep anything down but water. Elizabeth had said as much to the girls when they'd first arrived at the bar. It was inner-city, just down the road from Elizabeth's new office. She'd stumbled across it by accident and being on the phone to Jane at the time, she suggested they all celebrate there.

'If they're too upper class for us,' Elizabeth had said, spying a group of well-coiffed and leggy beauties sitting by the window seats, 'we can always find somewhere else, more suitable for little fish in a big pond looking to celebrate.'

Glancing around her now, Elizabeth wondered if they really weren't trying a little too hard to fit in. At first it was fine, charging their glasses to both Elizabeth and Charlotte. 'We slaughtered their main witness,' Charlotte had said, her eyes bright and face shining as she filled them in on her day at court. 'The judge didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth after that, and by lunch time they were coming to us with offers to settle.'

Now, though, she could feel discomfit settle in. She was drinking martinis and Jane was still trying to get through her second cosmopolitan ('I don't know why I picked this. I panicked when he asked for my order and all I could think of was _Sex in the City_'). Then there was Charlotte, downing Long Island Iced Teas like they were lolly water. They certainly _looked_ the part; Elizabeth in her crisp (freshly purchased, freshly pressed, insanely over-priced) skirt and blouse with killer (literally, her toes were starting to scream at her) heels, Charlotte in her court attire and Jane looking ethereal in beige linen slacks and feminine blouse. But Elizabeth wondered if everyone could see through them, especially when she was trying not to grimace with every sip of her drink.

As Jane gave their order to the waiter, Elizabeth noticed a group enter the bar and head straight for a booth in the corner. They look like they own the place, she thought, before Charlotte also noticed the newcomers and was appraising them.

'Didn't your mother teach you it was rude to stare?' Elizabeth murmured, stirring the olive in her drink.

'I daresay my mother taught me more manners than yours taught you,' Charlotte returned, her eyes still on the booth group.

'_Touché._'

'It's Charles Bingley and his sisters,' Charlotte advised, although no one had enquired. 'If I recollect correctly, the other man is his brother-in-law.'

Elizabeth was mildly curious. She thought she recognised the name Bingley but she couldn't place it. 'Who are they when they're not at home?'

'Bingley owns this bar, and a whole lot of other restaurants in town. His sister, Caroline, is a fashion designer. You never hear much about the other sister and her husband, but rumour has it he's a raging alcoholic.'

Elizabeth laughed at herself. No wonder they looked like they were at home, they kind of were. She suddenly wished they were sitting in a loud and dingy Irish pub, swigging Guinness or Kilkenny with strangers who didn't care how she looked and who'd probably never touch a martini with a ten foot pole. They'd already placed a food order though, so she figured she could make it through one more drink before suggesting they find an alternative establishment to continue their celebrations.

Charlotte was still talking about her day when the waiter returned with their fresh drinks. Elizabeth was trying to follow the thread of their conversation but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Charles Bingley watching their table. Specifically, watching the interaction between his waiter and Jane.

There was no time to warn the others before Bingley was standing at their table, buttoning his jacket and introducing himself. 'Is everyone enjoying themselves?' he asked, his smile genuine and polite. 'Joe, could you please bring these ladies a complimentary round of drinks.' He clapped the waiter on the shoulder as a tacit dismissal. Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from smiling. 'What brings you to my humble bar this fine evening?'

Jane twisted in her chair to speak with Bingley directly, the few drinks already under her belt giving her a rosy hue and more confidence than usual to carry the conversation. Elizabeth and Charlotte exchanged smirks over their drinks. After a few minutes, Bingley returned to his booth and Jane was rounding on them. 'That was rude! You _completely _ignored him!'

'Forgive me, sister dear, but he wasn't interested in talking to _us_,' Elizabeth laughed, charging her glass. 'He was only interested in the angel at the table, not the mere mortals.'

'And forgive me, please,' said an unfamiliar voice at Elizabeth's side. Elizabeth jumped and turned. She tried to hide her disappointment as she took in the intruder. He was unfortunately short, unfortunately paunchy and most unfortunately unattractive. The only nice thing Elizabeth could say for his appearance was that he was cleanly shaven. 'My intrusion is not meant to be disrespectful by _any _means … only I could not help but overhear. I have to disagree with your assessment of your beauty. I find all three of you exceptionally beautiful.'

Watery eyes simpered at Jane, then Elizabeth and finally Charlotte. Elizabeth eyed the newcomer with bemused curiosity, Charlotte raised an eyebrow and Jane smiled politely.

'And forgive me further!' he all but exclaimed, attracting the attention of those close by. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. 'I am yet to introduce myself. Richard Collins, at your service.'

'Jane Bennet,' replied Jane, unruffled. She held out her hand to shake Collins' but he grasped her hand and quickly turned it, fumbling as he pressed an awkward peck on her knuckles. Jane introduced Charlotte, and Collins repeated the process with her. Elizabeth held out her hand but refused to let Collins turn her hand, instead keeping their palms pressed together. With one quick squeeze, she released Collins' hand. Sweaty. She discreetly wiped her palm against her skirt.

He pulled a chair to the table and made himself comfortable sitting between Jane and Elizabeth. 'What brings you here tonight, ladies?'

Elizabeth should have realised this was an omen, a sign of things to come. All too soon (at least before Elizabeth could work out a polite way to ask Collins to leave, given that no one seemed desirous of keeping his company and conversation was decidedly awkward), their platter of antipasto arrived and Collins invited himself to stay. 'Surely you won't eat the whole platter, it wouldn't accord with your diets! For ladies of your physiques must surely be dieting. I must assist you.' The intruder all but dismantled the platter. Elizabeth supposed he must have been starving given the small amount of time it took for everything but the olives to disappear. Elizabeth smiled tightly, and was about to eject this intruder (who in her head had taken the name _Dick_) when the house lights dimmed and a DJ assumed position in a back corner.

'Ah, dancing. I love to dance!' Dick said with far too much exuberance for the jazzy number.

'I can't agree with you more! Hello, Charles Bingley,' said the very man, gripping Dick's hand in a firm handshake. 'I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you'd care to dance, Jane?'

Once again, Charlotte and Elizabeth's eyes met across the table. Eyes rolled and heads were shaken in silent acknowledgement as Dick stuttered, 'No, of course! Jane, do enjoy yourself!' Jane carefully stepped down from her stool, avoiding Dick's eyes and mouthing a 'sorry!' to Elizabeth as she followed Bingley to the dance floor. In the mirror above the bar, Elizabeth saw Bingley's sisters stand, their noses crinkling in unison towards the scene on the dance floor, before they swooped from the bar.

Elizabeth's attention was brought back to her own table when Dick clapped his hands and cried, 'Ah, well, I see he intends to lead by example! Elizabeth? Would you care to …?'

She supposed that she was at least an inch taller than him, and given the top she was wearing, she would have a near-perfect opportunity to perve on her boobs. 'I'm very sorry but I'm going to sit this one out. Thank you for the offer, though,' Elizabeth added, picking up her martini and taking a resolute sip, ignoring the burn in her throat and stomach. If she kept that up, she'd be well and truly paralytic before long, and she didn't trust this Dick guy.

'I'll dance with you.'

Elizabeth was astonished – completely beggared beyond belief – when Charlotte spoke up. She tried to communicate her thoughts to Charlotte telepathically: are you fecking INSANE?

'You don't mind watching our bags, do you?' Charlotte continued, already walking around the table to stand beside Collins.

'Absolutely,' said Elizabeth, trying to convey her disbelief in that one word, before noticing the pleading look on Charlotte's face. She quickly amended, 'Absolutely not! Enjoy yourself.'

Dick grasped Elizabeth's hand once again and she jerked her hand away quickly before he could kiss it. 'The next dance, my lady?' he all but simpered. Elizabeth, flushed with embarrassment, made a non-committal noise in her throat and turned her attention to her martini, hoping Dick understood her dismissal.

Elizabeth watched Dick lead her best friend out onto the dance floor with a horrible feeling in her stomach. She didn't know if it was the martinis catching up with her, or if she was feeling something entirely more unattractive. Charlotte rarely had anyone interested in her, which Elizabeth knew wasn't entirely fair. Charlotte had had her share of boyfriends, but none of them ever seemed to work out. Elizabeth had long suspected that Charlotte would eventually give up and marry her job, at least _that_ was a constant in her life.

She knew she wasn't jealous over Jane dancing with Bingley. That was an expected occurrence – it had been happening with predictable regularity since high school. Jane just attracted men. Attractive men. Good men, too, which was something Elizabeth hadn't ever quite managed herself. A fleeting image of Johnny Wickham flitted through her mind at that point and she downed the rest of her cocktail in one mouthful. Who was she to judge Charlotte's choice in men? Her cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment at the mere memory of the jerk.

'Although that's hardly a strong enough word for him,' she muttered.

'Drinking alone and talking to yourself? You really are having a good night aren't you.'

And once again, the chair to her right was filled by a stranger. Who just happened to have the most brilliant head of dark hair. Amused green eyes with long lashes. Straight nose, straight teeth. Distracting smile, small in what she hoped was only shyness and not displeasure, now that she'd turned around to look at him fully (another occurrence that happened with depressingly predictable regularity). All in all, he was certainly a welcome stranger, Elizabeth decided. Especially when compared with that stool's previous occupant.

'It was going really well until about twenty minutes ago,' said Elizabeth lightly.

'You seemed to be restrain yourself just then.'

'From?'

'I couldn't decide, actually. Was it from throwing your drink in his face, or smashing this plate over his head. Did you actually get to eat any of this?' the handsome stranger asked, gesturing to the empty plate.

Elizabeth laughed, 'No, not really. I did manage a water cracker but I wasn't quick enough for the sundried tomato.'

'The feta would've topped that off nicely.'

'Please don't rub it in. I haven't eaten all day and right now, a crumb of feta would be heavenly.'

He laughed, a rich and deep laugh that made the tightness in her chest ease and give way, falling sharply into her stomach. Who _was _this delectable specimen of the species?

'How is it you seem to know so much about my night so far? You weren't spying on us were you?'

He smiled and shook his head. 'I've only just arrived. Probably about five minutes before I welcomed myself over here. Your friend seems to be enjoying herself though,' he said, catching a glimpse of Charlotte between the crowd. Elizabeth watched too, but she thought Charlotte's smile was a little too forced, her laugh a little too fake. As they watched, Dick stood on her foot and she winced, but carried on. The whole situation was awkward, especially when Dick wrapped his arm around Charlotte's waist and stared her intently in the eyes. What was supposed to be a sexual gesture looked bizarre and inappropriate, and Elizabeth suddenly thought of a gangly teenager spying on girls under the school bleachers.

The new intruder, the handsome intruder, cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. 'What about you? Disappointed you aren't out there with them?' he asked, although the mischievous glint in his eye gave him away.

'You did see the calibre of man who was previously in your chair, didn't you?' Elizabeth laughed. 'Enough said.'

'Who was he?'

'Dick.'

'Obviously.'

They laughed. They caught each other's eyes and quickly glanced away again. Elizabeth really didn't know what to make of this turn of events. This man was probably only being polite, sitting with her when he realised that she'd been left abandoned at her table. He was being gentlemanly in now offering to buy her a drink. She tried to steal a stealthy look at him as he stood at the bar. He was far too good looking to be interested in a girl the likes of her, even with her exceptionally good hair day and expensive clothes. He oozed charisma – everything about him suggested that he was a good man, probably very successful, and if that Omega watch was anything to go by, he wasn't short of a dollar. He definitely was not interested in her.

Now, Charles Bingley was definitely interested in Jane. Anyone could see that, and Elizabeth supposed even blind people would have been able to sense the pheromones bouncing around the room. Her face was slightly pink and she seemed breathless as they left the dance floor, their fingers laced together. He whispered something in her ear and disappeared through a side door.

Jane made her way through the crowd to the table, and Elizabeth likened her to a supermodel strutting down the street. People just moved out of her way, allowing her to pass. Elizabeth had long ago dealt with her envy over her sister's good lucks and could only now be proud of her, but there was no denying that a tiny marching band erupted in her chest when her handsome stranger wasn't there to compare her to Jane.

'Honey, I'm so sorry, you're probably going to hate me for this but he's asked me to dinner,' Jane said, her voice shaky and excited. Her eyes were sparkling. 'Do you mind if I go? I wouldn't normally, but Charlotte is still here so you aren't alone … and he is just … _wow._'

Elizabeth smiled and passed over Jane's handbag. 'Have a lovely night. Don't do anything I wouldn't.'

'I guess I'll be home with a mug of hot chocolate before ten then!' Jane laughed and Elizabeth swatted her away. She called over her shoulder, 'See you later, have fun!' before she disappeared. Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. In the space of half an hour, Jane had met someone and was now going on a date. She didn't even have to fret for hours before hand, changing her outfit countless times and stressing because her dead-straight hair just wouldn't curl. Lady Luck forever shone for her sister, Elizabeth determined. It was a shame the Lady's aim wasn't a little off, every now and then, because she could do with some of her sister's luck every now and then.

'What are you laughing at?' the man said, placing another martini in front of her and resuming his seat.

'You just missed my sister. She's a funny one sometimes.'

'She's no longer here?'

'No, she's on a date,' Elizabeth said, adding, 'it was kind of a last minute thing.'

He merely nodded and swirled his scotch on the rocks. He surveyed the now crowded room and smiled. 'Don't look now, but your suitor returns,' he chuckled, tilting his head in the direction of the dance floor.

'Shit!' she swore under her breath. 'I really don't know how to deal with him, he just doesn't take a hint. I'm sorry,' Elizabeth added, looking at him apologetically. 'He really is something else.'

'There you are! Your friend is just in the bathroom. How about that dance now?' Dick asked, somewhat breathless. He spared a quick glance for the stranger before gazing intently at Elizabeth.

'Actually, the next dance is mine.'

Do NOT let your jaw drop to the floor, her brain commanded ferociously.

Elizabeth could've hugged this gorgeous man with the delicious voice and fancy cufflinks. He stood from his chair and offered his hand to Elizabeth. 'Shall we?' he said, although the tone in his voice suggested he would only accept her acquiescence. Not that she had any problems with obliging him, of course.

She nodded and tried to follow him to the dance floor without tripping over her own feet. Her shoes were turning out to be a bigger hindrance than she could've anticipated, eagerly parading around the shoe store insisting that the leather would stretch and she'd wear the heels in. Add to it that heels were not a common feature in her wardrobe and she could feel her world of pain expanding to encompass a miserable moon.

As they blended in with the other couples on the dance floor, tentatively joining hands and moving together, Elizabeth couldn't believe her luck. Out of all the men in this town, and all the bars said men could enter, _he _had to pick _this _bar. Perhaps Lady Luck wasn't so blind to her, after all.

He moved with grace and confidence, totally in control – she was already, pathetically, entranced by him.

Oh sweet lord, he smells good enough to eat, she thought wistfully.

You're just hungry, the rational side of her brain returned.

A slow, sultry kind of number was playing, one that she wasn't familiar with but he seemed to know, if his humming was any indication. She turned her head so she could hear him more clearly, and sternly told herself it was just her imagination kicking in to overdrive when she thought his hand moved lower on her back, pulling her closer to him.

'Sorry, that's probably very annoying,' he said, a small smile gracing his lips. She wished he hadn't realised he'd been humming – now he was self-conscious, the only chink in his Prince Charming armour. He was all sorts of perfect, at least as far as her starry eyes could see. Tall, strong, decidedly _masculine. _She was glad he wasn't wearing a jacket. It allowed her closer contact to his skin. Warmth seeped into her fingers from his shoulder, and she was pleased to note that his palm wasn't sweaty like Dick's had been.

'Not at all,' replied Elizabeth, pleased that her inner musings on his delectability hadn't burst forth instead. 'Do you sing?'

He shook his head. 'I only hum. And occasionally dance,' he said before pulling her close to him and leading her in a succession of rapid steps. She gripped his hand and upper arm, relieved that he was a good dancer and she'd been able to follow his lead without tripping over her feet. Unfortunately, being a good dancer, he could obviously tell there was a serious lack of skill in her dancing repertoire.

'Sorry, I'm not a very good dancer,' she said, her cheeks once again ablaze. 'Especially not in ridiculous shoes. I should've warned you.'

He took a step back and looked at her feet. 'No warning necessary. I quite like them, if it makes you feel better. My friend would call them event shoes, I think. She's in fashion,' he added, shrugging.

Elizabeth laughed at the uncomfortable expression on his face. It was endearing to realise he wasn't always perfect, and that he seemed rather unassuming of his effect on her and the general female population. 'Your friend is right, these are my event shoes. I needed to make a good first impression this afternoon,' she said simply. They hadn't swapped any personal information – she didn't even know his _name _– so it seemed inappropriate to tell him she had been for a job interview.

'And did you?'

'I believe so,' she smiled, and he returned the gesture, back at ease.

'Hence the celebratory girls night.'

'Yes.'

'That has subsequently been kyboshed by men.'

'Hmm. I can't say that I'm very disappointed about that.'

'Perhaps you spoke too soon,' he said quietly, drawing Elizabeth closer to him and turning so she could see Charlotte and Dick making their way towards them.

'Oh please, no,' Elizabeth all but wailed into his shirt front.

'I can get rid of him if you'd like.'

'In a _feed him to the fishes _kind of way? Then sure, have at it,' she groaned, earning a chuckle.

'Let's go somewhere else,' he said, every inch the handsome paperback hero in his casually corporate attire, smelling delicious and looking pretty bloody fine. Elizabeth's confounded mind could only think, he wants to leave with _me?_

'I can't just _leave_ her …' she cowered.

As Charlotte got closer, Elizabeth saw that she was carrying her handbag and she swore. 'You've got to be kidding me,' she breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

'What's wrong?'

'She's going to sleep with him. _Jesus._'

'Good night, lovely,' said Charlotte, brightly, _eagerly_. Elizabeth's skin crawled. 'I'll see you in the morning? Brunch at say, ten? Congratulations once again, I'm so proud of you! Don't worry about the tab, I've fixed it up – your shout next time. Bye now, and don't wait up!'

Before Elizabeth could even get a word in edgewise, Charlotte had grabbed Dick's hand and was making a beeline for the front door. Elizabeth started after her but stopped stock still when Dick looked back at her and winked.

'I think a little part of my soul has just died,' Elizabeth said gravely.

'You aren't alone in that. Your, er … your friend likes to move quickly by the looks of things.'

'Indeed,' she said, confused and more than a little disturbed. She picked _him?_ Out of all the available men in this bar, Charlotte picked _him? _How many cocktails had the stupid girl consumed? Surely no more than Elizabeth, even though the martinis were starting to kick in, she realised with a rush of heat to her chest.

'How about that drink somewhere else, then? No strings attached, mind. I'm no Dick.'

A ripple of disappointment shot through her, and she flushed at the thought of his lips on hers, her hands in his hair, chests heaving and hips grinding, legs entwined. Instead she laughed and said, by way of agreement, 'I think it's my turn to shout drinks.'

* * *

They walked along the street, slowly. Elizabeth's feet were killing her, and he was terribly amused by her efforts not to limp.

'You don't happen to have a band aid, do you?' she cried, a touch pathetic.

'Fresh out of band aids, sorry,' he said, his hands in his trouser pockets.

'Bugger damn,' she muttered, trying to create space for her littlest toe without success. She gave up and continued walking. 'So, where are we going?'

'I don't know. There's an Irish pub not far from here. I'll shout you a bowl of chips, but I don't know what their martinis are like.'

She was secretly pleased that he wasn't a crusty up-town man, despite ticking all of the boxes to be so. That he wanted to go to a loud and raucous pub, probably with cheap beer and live music, thrilled her, almost as if she was showing him her side of the tracks. She knew nothing of his life story, and while she wasn't raised on welfare payments she was willing to bet her own upbringing hadn't been as privileged or as comfortable as his. 'Give me a vodka and I'll be happy. I'd rather die of thirst than drink another martini. Bloody horrible drinks.'

He laughed. 'Forgive me, but why did you order it? Several times, I might add.'

'That was training.' The man who was to be her supervisor come Monday morning had informed her that it wasn't unusual to find their department in a cocktail bar on Friday nights, martinis in hand. She gathered from this that she would be working with fashionable people, disinterested in Midori splices and fruit tingles. She was therefore determined to conquer the classic cocktails and fit in.

'And you're still in the early stages?'

'Infantile,' she confirmed. He laughed and she smiled, and the absurdity of the situation caught up with her. 'This is bizarre, you realise? We don't know each other. I don't even know your name!'

'I don't know yours, either,' he pointed out, before throwing out one of those small smiles. It was the martinis catching up with her, not his smile, that made her heart beat double time.

You're drunk, you're drunk, you're drunk, she chanted to herself. Drink water. Eat food. You're about to make a fool of yourself.

'So is this how you'd like tonight to play out? Two strangers randomly meet, hang out for a bit and then go their separate ways?'

Oh sweet lord, shut up! _You're drunk! You're making a fool of yourself!_

'I've no aversion to telling you my name,' he replied and the smile grew bigger. 'Although I'm intrigued by this proposition of yours …'

'It has that feeling of serendipity to it, doesn't it?' Elizabeth laughed as they rounded the corner to the Irish pub.

'You aren't into tragic romantic comedies that aren't really romantic _or _funny, are you?' he groaned. 'My sister has that rubbish movie.'

'And she forces you to endure it, I'm guessing?'

'On occasion. It's my duty as a brother,' he said sheepishly.

A man of duty, she thought, liking how it sounded. It certainly didn't hinder his case that her mind immediately flew to Matthew Crawley's first proposal. Lady Mary's face flashed in her mind, '_Are you a creature of duty?'_ If it wasn't bad enough that she'd run through every form of puffery to describe his physical appearance, she was now comparing him to fictional characters.

Despite this, she added another piece to the stranger's puzzle. A very attractive picture was being painted before her.

Or, you know, _you're drunk._

* * *

A band was playing in the back corner of the dark and dingy Irish pub as they made their way through throngs of madly dancing people (who were really more jumping and shouting off-key lyrics than actually dancing, but she didn't want to ruin their fun). Her feet felt like they were sticking to the floor as they took seats at the bar, and she felt infinitely more comfortable here than in Bingley's smooth bar.

'So, what's your story?' she asked, picking out the lime in her drink and squeezing it. 'You look corporate. You appear well educated, you're articulate. You're a good dancer, a doting brother and tonight, my unofficial knight in shining armour.'

He smiled easily, removing his cufflinks and slipping them into his pocket before rolling up his shirt sleeves. She easily imagined him sitting in an office wearing a suit, slipping off the tie as he left for after work drinks.

Don't look at the forearms. Don't notice how tanned they are. Don't notice the muscles tensing.

She snapped her attention back to his face, although this didn't calm her nerves any more than gazing at his forearms (_forearms! _You're daydreaming about _forearms! _Pull yourself together!). She could stare at him, in a non-threatening _please don't call the police _way, all night. 'Thank you, I think. Yes, I'm corporate. Tertiary qualified, high school toastmaster, self-taught dancer, big brother so the doting comes with the territory, and, well, I'm honoured, I must say. I've never been anyone's knight in shining armour before.'

'I'm glad to extend the privilege. Your life wouldn't have been complete if you hadn't come to some desperate damsel's defence. Thanks for the chips, by the way. This gravy is great. I always wanted a brother, doting or otherwise. Just having one would've been great.'

'Do you always talk in rambling, run-on sentences or is this a martini special?'

'The drink is helping to move things along,' she admitted, ducking her head, 'but I could probably talk all day if I had something worthwhile to say.'

'I like that. I don't talk much, most times. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm a bit apprehensive around new people,' he said, raising his glass to his lips and shrugging nonchalantly.

'So you're shy,' she supplied.

He rolled his eyes. 'I'm not shy, not exactly. I just take time to get comfortable.'

Elizabeth had no trouble believing him. He seemed to be a man of his word, not merely saying whatever he thought his audience wanted to hear. It was, however, at complete odds with the man she'd just met at one of the most popular and pretentious bars in the city. A man who'd decided to sit beside her and strike up a conversation, who was now playing along with the idea of serendipity, buying her potato chips for dinner and rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal the sexist forearms she'd ever seen.

'So why are you ok with me? You don't know me from a bar of soap.'

'I don't,' he agreed simply. 'I honestly can't explain it. I saw Dick leering at you even while he was dancing with your friend and the look on your face was, well, it was hilarious. I was supposed to be meeting a friend but it fell through at the last minute.'

'And you were already there, so you figured why not, I'm going to perform my civic duty and save this poor woman from the unwanted sexual advances of an unattractive slimy git with sweaty ?'

'Something like that,' he agreed, laughing, and Elizabeth bit her lip to stop a full scale smile from stretching across her face. She liked that she could make him laugh, but her mother always told her that she had a horrible smile that made her top lip disappear.

'So, I know that you're out celebrating tonight, that you have at least one sister currently on a date and a friend named Charlotte currently doing unspeakable things with the unattractive git. I also suspect you give people nicknames, because I'm not sure anyone named their son _Dick _after the 1950s.'

Elizabeth laughed. 'I'm sure they haven't, but at the very least, they _shouldn't_. Imagine the school yard bullying with that name. But in order, because I think you're a man who likes order and priority –'

'Correct,' he interjected. She smiled (not too hugely, ensuring her top lip remained visible).

'I am celebrating tonight, although it wasn't just for me. I have four sisters; I'm the second of five daughters. Charlotte, who you met briefly tonight and will probably spend weeks trying to forget, is my best friend. Nicknames are fun and convenient although I rarely give rude or offensive names, reserving this for the true dicks.'

'So what's his real name?'

'He introduced himself as Richard Collins.'

'So Dick wasn't especially original then.'

'I'm afraid not.'

'Do I have a nickname?'

'No, strangely enough. And I'm going to keep it that way.'

'What are you celebrating?' he pressed, seemingly on a roll with his conversational skills.

'Good news,' she answered circuitously, smiling at his frustration.

'Ok fine. I don't know what you're celebrating but I reckon your friend was selfish in leaving you on your night of nights. So, I propose another course for the evening.' He caught the attention of a bartender. 'We're going to celebrate. Just you and me.' He turned to the bartender. 'Two tequila slammers, please.'

'Tonight has taken a turn for the destructive, it would appear.'

'I'll put you in a taxi when you can't stand anymore. You'll have to remember your own address.'

Two tequila slammers materialised out of nowhere and he handed her a shot glass.

'What shall we drink to?' he asked, licking the back of his hand and pouring salt on it.

'Celebrations,' she replied, downing the shot and biting into the lemon.

* * *

'I don't understand why you went back!' she laughed, now completely uncaring whether her top lip was disappearing or staying in place. 'Or why you weren't expelled when they found out!'

He grinned and shrugged. 'The principal loved me, I guess. Golden boy, but it's more likely they didn't want to expel the son of one of the biggest benefactors. The car was replaced, and my friend and I had to do community service. I think it was the coolest thing I've ever done. We've been best mates ever since.'

'Yet you were still school captain.'

'She loved me, what can I say?'

'My principal _hated _me. Absolutely hated me. It might have had something to do with me looking too much like my mother, who she also taught. Small town folk have long memories. And my eldest sister was a tough act to follow. She's perfection personified. It doesn't hurt your private school sensibilities to be seen out with me, does it?' she teased.

'Not at all,' he assured her. He picked up his glass and threw her a cheeky sideways glance (_oh_, that tequila has definitely warmed him up, she thought). 'If I had have known it was going to be this much fun slumming it with a public school girl, I would've done it years ago.'

'_Slumming?' _Elizabeth cried in mock horror. 'Good sir, I believe _my _sensibilities are offended.'

'Yes, everything about your demeanour shouts offense.'

Elizabeth tried not to think too much about her demeanour at that very moment. She was sure it was too eager. She imagined a body language expert standing behind one-way glass observing their conversation, noting that shewas too enthusiastic for him, who was merely politely interested and humouring her. But she was certain she wasn't imagining the distance between them slowly closing. Or that he had now turned in his seat to face her instead of the bar.

'I do believe I'm rubbing off on you,' she settled with. 'You weren't so cheeky when you waltzed into my life earlier this evening.'

He picked up the bowl containing the last of the chips and offered it to her. Elizabeth shook her head. 'Absolutely not, I've already eaten my fair share.'

'It's polite in some societies to offer the last chip to a lady friend,' he said, waving the bowl under her nose.

She arched an eyebrow. 'Which societies?'

'Ours. At least it should be,' he added thoughtfully. 'You've already been deprived of one meal tonight, I wouldn't want to be responsible for it happening a second time.'

ANOTHER HUGE TICK IN THIS MAN'S DREAMY CHECKLIST, her mind shouted with glee.

Elizabeth tried to swallow that thought down and shook her head. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. 'Why do I get the feeling there's this hilarious inner monologue going on with you? I'd love to know what's going on it that head of yours.'

Laughing, and reprimanding herself for being so transparent, she said, 'My inner monologue was just wondering if you'd travelled a lot? Since you speak so eloquently on societies.'

Oh, yeah. Real smooth diversion, Libby. _Eejit._

'I've noticed that you've been asking me a lot of questions, yet you don't seem all that willing to be the first to share,' he challenged.

Elizabeth took the bait. 'Ask me anything you want, and I'll answer honestly. Except for my name, of course.'

'I'll start with an easy one, then. Have you travelled a lot?'

'Now who lacks originality? Alright, no. I've never travelled. Not unless you count Canberra for a school trip and the Gold Coast once, on an ill-fated family holiday circa Christmas, 2002. Yourself?'

'All of the continents except for Antarctica,' he said, without ceremony. She liked that he wasn't trying to impress her or worse, gloat about it.

'Show off.'

'Jealous?'

'Insanely.'

'You should do it some time,' he said simply.

'I aim to, one day. Next question.'

'Occupation?'

'Currently unemployed, just out of university. I start work on Monday.'

'The good news worth celebrating, I take it?'

'Correct. Your job?'

'Banking and finance. Other stuff in my spare time. Boring, I know.'

'My mind doesn't work well with figures so I'm impressed, not bored. How'd you get into it?'

'Family business. Favourite food?'

'My mother's Sunday roast,' she said without hesitation. Elizabeth supposed that sounded unworldly, so she didn't ask what his favourite was. It was probably something exotic from a far flung country she'd never see.

'Traditional. Your age?'

'Early twenties.'

'I could've guessed that much. You aren't willing to be more specific?'

'I'm twenty-three, but don't let anyone else know that. Yourself?'

'Twenty-seven. Are you into sports?'

'Purely as a spectator. I can shout at the ref and curse just as good as the next person. I know you're the interrogator here, but I have to butt in and ask a question, which is hugely important and will be determinative of whether I continue to sit here with you. Cats or dogs?'

He eyed her, that now-familiar look of _just humour her_ gracing his features.'Dogs, definitely. I don't have one though. I imagine you're also a dog person.' He said it as if he knew enough about her to warrant making the statement.

'Congratulations, you've passed the test and we can continue our one-night only acquaintance! And yes, I'm a dog person. I have a family dog but he lives with my parents. Wally. The name aptly suits him.'

He smiled, continuing to humour her and her dramatics, but his laugh sounded melodic and genuine, and her heart skipped a beat. She thought she may have to consult a doctor shortly if this kept up. 'Favourite band?'

'Too many to name but I'm loving Mumford & Sons lately.'

'I've just seen them in concert, on Wednesday night actually. Down on the River Stage.'

'We sat outside the Botanic Gardens enjoying the free concert, until security asked us to leave. Big city people can be so nasty sometimes.'

'You don't live here?' he asked, and he seemed surprised.

'I do now, but I grew up in bum fuck nowhere, out past Toowoomba. Yourself?'

'I've lived in a few cities. Here, Sydney, Melbourne, London. I did a stint at Cambridge for university.'

'You studied at Cambridge? Are you _serious_?'

'Yes, and the parties were insane. Can't remember much about the place other than that. Next drink?'

'Water, please.'

'Sensible,' he noted, yet there was a definite tease in the set of his mouth.

'Required, if I'm going to keep up with you. _Cambridge._'

He laughed. 'It's not such a big deal. Are you going to eat that last chip or what?'

Elizabeth's hand darted out and snatched the gravy-sodden chip from the bottom of the bowl. 'Since you insisted,' she grinned and he shook his head.

'So tell me, how does a boring bank boy end up with such beautifully tanned forearms?'

'I'm not your average bank Johnny,' he said, winking. 'I'm not always in the office.'

'Bruce Wayne alter-ego?' she queried in mock-seriousness.

He snorted and shook his head. 'No, although I'd hardly admit to it if it was true, would I? The truth is much more boring than that.'

'Corporate high flyer who entertains millionaire clients on a golf course?' she ventured.

'The second part of that is correct, I guess,' he shrugged, but smiled. 'Beautifully tanned forearms?'

'You just had to remember _that _part, didn't you?' Elizabeth chuckled, but she obligingly held her own arm alongside his (her heart rate spiked), milky white in comparison. 'I could've auditioned for a _Twilight _film with skin like this.'

His gaze stayed on her arm, now tantalisingly close to his own. She felt heat prickle on her neck and pulled her arm away. It was far too easy to be around this man, she'd determined. There were no awkward gaps in conversation, no topics too obscure or controversial (although they'd very politely agreed to disagree on politics and religion for the sake of their one-night only friendship). Elizabeth was very aware of the fact that with every word he spoke, and with every turn of his beautiful head and sweep of his hands, she was falling deeper in lust with him. That she didn't know his name didn't bother her anymore, it just added to the fun and mystery of it all. Maybe, she couldn't be certain, but _maybe _they might continue this friendship. Of course, her fancying him wouldn't help her situation …

'Who is it that you keep staring at over my shoulder?' he asked suddenly, breaking the destructive train of thought running through her mind. No. They definitely could not be friends after tonight, not when she'd all but decided he was the perfect man for her. It just wouldn't work.

He twisted in his chair to follow Elizabeth's line of sight.

'Just a young couple. I reckon they might break up tonight.'

'How do you figure?' he asked. 'They look alright to me.'

'I people watch – pick up on their moods and how they act around others. I've been watching her, which is how I know she's been watching _you_ all night.'

'Is she worth it?' he joked, straightening his shirt collar. 'Does she approve of what she sees?'

Discomfit prickled along her neck but Elizabeth answered honestly, 'I doubt there are many people who could find fault. I've been trying and if anything, it would be that you frown too much for my liking.'

'You laugh quite a lot,' he pointed out.

'I love to laugh; who doesn't? Is that a flaw?'

'I don't think so,' he said, and she felt as if it was the greatest compliment she'd ever received. 'So why do you think the punks are going to break up tonight?'

'She's looking awfully single for a girl in a relationship, and he's bored with her. She's checking out every man here but as I said, she keeps looking at you. I could sort her out for you if you want. Tell her to back off, keep her mitts off the goods.' She raised her eyebrows in quick succession, cracking her knuckles in front of her face. 'Just say the word.'

He laughed again and leaned towards her. 'Are you my body guard tonight?'

'I'm just returning the favour. You saved me from Dick; I can save you from the Lady of the Night.'

'I've a very effective way of keeping unwanted attention at bay.'

'So my services aren't required, I take it. What's your method?'

'I ignore them, or brush them aside. It makes me come across as an arse, but I've learnt to use it to my advantage.'

'Unduly harsh.'

'But effective.'

'But effective,' she concurred, her ears perking up at the sound of a new song beginning. The band was on a break and Max Sessions was playing on the televisions. She laughed at a drunkard attempt to breakdance but she couldn't help but bop along on her seat. It felt as though their conversation had been headed to dangerous territory, and she was only sure to find herself in trouble with this man.

'I love this song,' Elizabeth said, finishing up her drink. 'Don't you _love _this song?'

'You love a lot of things tonight,' he laughed. 'Come on, you're begging to be asked to dance.'

'How could you guess?' she replied brightly, jumping off the bar stool and leading him towards the back of the bar. Like earlier in the evening, he took her hand and spun her once, slowly. He didn't let go of her hand. He laced their fingers together and pulled her into a loose embrace.

'I'm guessing you don't have a girlfriend,' she said. Suddenly, she needed to know. It hadn't seemed relevant before now, even with her stupid flailing over him. Elizabeth allowed herself to look into his eyes. Her heart started to pound, causing her chest to near ache. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. It was a simple question. Nothing had changed, or _would _change. He was still a random stranger with whom she happened to be spending the evening and having a grand old time while she was at it.

'No, I don't.' He seemed as unperturbed as ever, the enviably cool cat in the conversation. 'You're likewise unattached?'

'Unattached,' she confirmed, breathless and giddy as his eyes dipped to her lips and back up to her eyes. Elizabeth thought she knew where things were heading but she refused to make the first move. She wasn't going to make a fool of herself, not in that way. Granted, she'd never see him again but that wouldn't ease the embarrassment whenever she'd replay it in her mind. She started to pull away. The moment was passing and if she kept staring at him like that, awkwardness would set in and ruin what had otherwise been a terrific night. She smiled, but it was small and shy, unlike the easy banter from earlier in the night. The thought made her stomach lurch (it definitely wasn't the alcohol) and she resolved, there and then, that she was going to turn it around and make the night fun again. The chorus of the song sounded through the speakers and she grinned brightly at him, dropping his hand and singing along loudly. Elizabeth knew he was watching her, so she spun around and displayed her best drunken dance moves, her hands and hips moving in time with the music. He smiled at her and she couldn't help but beam back at him, her mother's advice a dim echo in her mind.

'I think I need another drink if I'm going to keep dancing like this. How about yewww – _hmmm_.'

He'd pulled her against his chest and was tilting her head back with his hand, softly stroking her cheek with his thumb. His lips pressed against hers, soft but compelling and insistent, and her mouth easily complied with his long before her brain caught up with her body. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing that anyone had ever done to her: grabbed her and snogged her senseless, right in the middle of the dance floor.

When they finally broke apart, he seemed to come into his own again and dropped his hand from her face. 'I'm sorry, that was rather presumptuous of me.'

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his hand, still on her hip. 'Perhaps, but I'm not complaining,' she quipped. _Quipped_. Her mind was capable of quick wit in its befuddled, lust-induced haze. The conductor of her mental marching band pointed to the trumpeters and a mini-victory song sounded in her head. 'Although it took you long enough.'

'I believe that's a complaint,' he smirked and she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. When he pulled her against him again, there was no hesitation as their mouths opened and tongues met, hands wandering and gripping. Delicious warmth spread through Elizabeth and she felt like she was nothing but air – if he wasn't holding her tight against him, she may very well have drifted off in the next breeze. One kiss led to another, to another, to _another_ … until they were pressed against the wall, her softly mewling and his hands tangled in her hair. He broke away, and his eyes raked over her. She'd never felt so attractive, so desirable. It was only a matter of time before he led them out of the bar and into a taxi, and she wondered if there had been an undercurrent of want in him as there had been in her.

Elizabeth's heart was about to beat itself into cardiac arrest as they sat silently in the back seat. He nudged her knee with his own, and gripped her hand. 'Are you ok?'

Elizabeth nodded, her jumbled thoughts amazingly un-jumbling as she looked him in the eye. 'I am. It's just … well, I've never done this before.' At his raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. 'No, cowboy. This isn't my first rodeo.'

'Well, _that's _a scene I've never played out before …' he murmured, breath hot against her neck as Elizabeth's eyes rolled back in her head. She had no recollection of how they went from the taxi to his front door. All she remembered was him taking her handbag from her and placing it on the hall table, before turning to her and backing her slowly into the main part of the house. Her fingers splayed against his forearms, running up his biceps and across his shoulders, into his hair. His mouth dipped to her neck before Elizabeth brought his lips back to hers, their hips brushing together.

In between him removing his belt and her unbuttoning his shirt, Elizabeth heard herself speak, throaty and breathless. 'Just one night, no strings. Right?'

Elizabeth took the low sound in his throat as affirmation, before raising her hands above her head so he could remove her blouse. Her skirt disappeared not long after, his fingers pressing lightly into the soft flesh of her thighs. He stood back and looked at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her in her bra, panties and heels before him. A sense of empowerment came over Elizabeth then. Acting on an impulse, she reached forward and slowly dragged the zipper down on his trousers, her fingers light and teasing against the definite bulge.

'If I don't touch you soon I'll go mad,' he said roughly, watching as she slowly pushed his trousers down to his ankles. She knelt in front of him, freeing him of shoes, socks and finally pants. If she happened to take a little longer than necessary standing up, and if her rear just so happened to poke out an angle best displaying her lace panties, it wasn't something Elizabeth could help.

She bit her lip, deliberately demure, and tilted her head to the side. 'What's stopping you?'

Elizabeth gave a yelp as he easily lifted her, guiding her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. The lights were dimmed and bedcovers were pulled back haphazardly before he placed her on the bed, his fingers running down her leg from her ankle to her hip, over her stomach to the lace edging of her bra. She probably ought to have felt some stirrings of doubt and insecurity as he pulled down her panties but there was nothing but heat and anticipation as she lay before him wearing nought but her heels.

'C'mere,' she whispered brokenly. He complied, bracing his hands on either side of her head, his body hovering over hers. Elizabeth raised a knee to run her calf over his lower back. Uncertainty crept in as she trailed a hand down his chest, her fingers lingering on his stomach. He lowered his mouth to hers and she was lost, her hand now moving of its own accord to stroke him through his briefs. She didn't care how completely reckless and wild this was, how quickly things had progressed. She didn't care that she didn't know his name, or where she was, or what was going to happen after this reached its inevitable conclusion. She simply didn't care so long as he kept kissing her like that, and touching her _there_, drawing more heat from her and making her press up against him, begging him to cut to the chase …

He pulled away from her and reached into a bedside table. Knowing what he was doing, Elizabeth averted her gaze, somehow thinking she should grant him some privacy. He was soon back with her, their gazes locking once again. He was hesitant; she could sense that he needed her to give the final ok …

Elizabeth felt like she was acting on auto pilot, or maybe it was pure instinct and impulse that made her push against his shoulder. He obliging rolled over, taking her with him. Elizabeth pressed slow and hot open-mouthed kisses over his chest, her teeth biting lightly at his nipple. She allowed her hair to trail over his stomach – she tried not to smile when she saw him twitch beneath her. Grinning, she dragged her nails over his stomach and was rewarded with another jump and a groan. 'Yes, I'm ticklish. We've established that enough, haven't we?' She laughed and was pleased to hear him groan again when her hands tracked further south. Now straddling him, she let their bodies take over. There was no more talking, no more teasing, just mind numbing pleasure as they discovered one another. Heat would build and she would tense, edging on the precipice, when he would take over and calm her down. He'd plunge deep inside her, waiting for her hips to lift in response and grind against him before he'd slowly withdraw, almost entirely, repeating the process over and over and – _dear_ _God –_ overagain until she was wild once more, trembling beneath him, her muscles clutching desperately at him. She shifted and placed one of her legs against his shoulder. He took one look at her shoe, still encasing her foot, and they both knew it wouldn't last much longer. Looking deeply into her eyes, he reached between them and stroked her, fingers sure and strong. Her response was immediate. Heat suffused her, her chest flushed deep red and she clenched at him, pulling him closer until she cried out and he collapsed against her.

Elizabeth struggled to bring her breathing under control again. Her heart thrummed as the rest of her body lay limp and satiated. She removed her heels and threw them on the floor, crying out in relief. Quiet laughter returned her attention to the man at her side, who was pulling the sheet up and over her. 'Don't move,' he said, leaving the bedroom before returning with a glass of water and packet of Panadol. Elizabeth tried unsuccessfully to keep her grin at bay. He joined her under the sheets and pulled her against him.

Elizabeth's eyes started to feel unbearably heavy, and his hand, lightly caressing on her hip, was lulling her to sleep. 'Stay the night,' he whispered into her hair. Her head nestled against his chest, tucked under his chin.

'Elizabeth,' she mumbled, already half asleep. 'But friends … Libby.'

* * *

William Darcy awoke the next morning to an empty bed and a thumping headache. A note written in lipstick was left on his bedside table.

_Thank you, my knight in shining armour. x_

* * *

A/N: this was initially inspired by a segment on Fifi and Jules' Today FM radio show, sometime during the week starting 8 October 2012, about one night stands … but I just couldn't trek down the boss/employee path a la Meredith and McDreamy. :)

And further credit where it's due: halfway through writing this, I stumbled across _Post Break Up Shots _by CoffeeBiscotti and was terribly amused by Lizzie after she came face to face with her Hottie Bar Buddy – it inspired the 'no name' theme.


	2. Part 2

**Luck and Trouble**

**- Part 2 -**

It is just his luck that he meets the most amazing, beautiful, unassuming, clever – _breathtaking _– woman, spends the night of his life with her and then has her slip through his sleeping fingers.

It is also his luck that the said amazing and breathtaking woman one day enters his life again, as his cousin's newest junior marketing executive.

The trouble with his luck is that said cousin has fallen for said breathtaking woman, without him realising his Libby is also James' Lizzy …

* * *

_A/N: So, it had been my intention to leave this as a one-shot, with the inevitable reunion the stuff of imagination. Except … people were so nice and encouraging with their reviews and personal messages and I just couldn't help myself!_

_If you've an inkling as to how Darcy's luck runs, feel free to leave a review. I love speculation. ;)_


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